Lady Luck Loves Lawyers Read online

  Whenever anything positive happened to me at my law office in Toronto, I’d quip to anyone who would listen that “Lady Luck loves lawyers.”

  During my Christmas gambling extravaganza, I hit three decent jackpots while playing Caveman Keno Plus, my favorite slot game.

  Within five minutes of sitting down I hit six of my seven chosen numbers with two eggs cracked for a payout of $104. An hour later I hit five out of seven numbers with all three eggs cracked for another $104 and after supper I managed to hit all seven numbers but with no eggs cracked for a final jackpot of $250.

  I turned a gambling profit of $390 that day and thoroughly enjoyed myself.

  Christmas had been saved.

  Since then I’d been going to the casino two or three times a week. Unfortunately the odds caught up with me and I’d lost $215 of that profit back to the one-armed bandits.

  Hopefully today would be a lucky day.

  My favorite machine was at the end of a row near the cashiers’ wickets. It was unoccupied when I arrived so I grabbed a free coffee from the self-serve stand and began playing.

  Despite the fact that I was reasonably wealthy, I was also quite the little cheapskate in many ways. It’s true that I resided in an upscale waterfront condominium and now drove a late model Cadillac, but in other respects I was a tightwad.

  For example I only bet twenty-five cents at a time on the Caveman Keno slots. That was the minimum bet and most of the players who sat down at the other machines played the maximum one dollar per game. Some folks played multi-card keno where they were able to bet up to $7 per game. Since it took only ten or fifteen seconds to play one game, those high-rollers tended to burn through their money at an alarmingly rapid rate.

  My goal wasn’t to make money gambling. I just wanted to pass the time in an enjoyable and inexpensive manner.

  Lady Luck was a bit of a tease today.

  I came close to hitting jackpots several times but couldn’t grab that one additional number when I needed it. Still, I played until seven o’clock and was only down $10.

  I broke for supper which I ate in the Windward Restaurant. I had the liver and onions along with a glass of water. It seemed unwise to pay a couple of bucks for a soft drink or coffee when I could get those beverages at no cost from the self-serve counter. I never drank even one beer when I was driving.

  After supper I went back to the slots. My end machine was now taken but another slot was vacant two seats away.

  I put in $5 and chose my seven numbers.

  This machine was moderately generous and over the course of the next three hours I hit three small jackpots of $26 and walked away with a profit on the evening of $30. That made up for the earlier $10 loss and fully paid for my supper.

  As I drove back home at eleven o’clock, I smiled to myself and thought that Lady Luck had been quite kind to me tonight.

  The temperature had dropped significantly while I was in the casino and now it was absolutely frigid outside.

  As soon as I got inside, I went directly upstairs to my computer looking for last-minute travel bargains. I wanted to go down south somewhere for a month or so and escape this awful Canadian winter.

  Nothing caught my fancy. I didn’t enjoy sitting around a swimming pool getting sunburned and drunk so the Caribbean islands held no appeal.

  A cruise would be great but the single supplements were atrocious. There was no way I’d pay double the already outrageous package price.

  I went to bed long past midnight resigned to the reality that I’d probably stick out the winter here in Belleville.

  CHAPTER 3 (A Timely Proposal)

  On Saturday morning the telephone woke me just after eight o’clock.

  When I groggily answered, a cheerful voice teased, “Don’t tell me you’re still in bed, Baxter. I sincerely hope you’ve got a hot babe under the covers with you.”

  It was Jimmy Corbett, the chap who had taken over my law practice.

  “Good morning, Jim. Unfortunately the underage hookers are too pricey in Belleville. I can’t afford their rates. What’s up?”

  “An old buddy called me last night. He’s in a complicated litigation mess and feels that he’s completely out of his element. Some big-wig customer stiffed him on a large invoice and is now claiming to be insolvent. If my friend doesn’t collect at least partial repayment of his bill, he might lose his business. Steve can’t afford to hire an investigator or pay some legal shyster’s hourly rate to check out the customer. He offered to put me up at his home and pay my travel and meal expenses if I came down to Vegas to help him out, but I’m jammed up here at the office and can’t get away. I immediately thought of you. If you’re interested in a free working vacation, then I’ll give you Steve’s number and you can discuss it with him.”

  “It would be great to get away from Canada for a while, but why did your friend believe that you could help him with his problem?”

  “He thought that I’d be able to do whatever corporate records searches or property searches that would establish that the customer isn’t broke. His reasoning was that paying for my flight and meals and putting me up in his house would be significantly cheaper than hiring either a private investigator or a Vegas attorney to do the same thing. Steve also felt that he might not be able to trust anyone from Las Vegas since the customer is so well-connected.”

  “How do you know Steve?”

  “We grew up together in Arizona and we shared an apartment in San Francisco when we were in university there at the same time. I was also Steve’s best man when he got married in 1980 and he returned the favor a few years later when Ginny and I got hitched. He’s a great guy and I’d really like to help him out but I’ve got two trials on the go right now and real estate is still booming in Toronto. I just can’t get away.”

  “I’ll speak to him. If he’s in financial distress right now, I wouldn’t feel right taking his money for my flight and meals. Last night I was searching the Internet for some warmer place to escape this terrible weather. I love Las Vegas. Maybe I’ll head down there for a vacation. If I’m able to help Steve out at the same time, then it’s a win-win situation. If I’m of no use, then at least he hasn’t wasted any of his own money.”

  “That sounds like a great plan, Scott. I knew I could count on you. I feel terrible for Steve.”

  Jimmy gave me his friend’s phone number and I called it as soon as we had finished bringing each other up-to-date about our lives since we had last spoken on New Year’s Day.

  Steve was a very pleasant guy.

  I explained that I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to accomplish what he needed but that I was anxious to go somewhere with warmer weather. Steve seemed somewhat desperate. It was clear that he had become mired in a situation for which he was totally unprepared. Since I didn’t own a smart phone, Steve agreed to provide me with one of his during my stay in Vegas so that I could be reached at all times and could also search the Internet when necessary.

  Steve provided me with the name of his customer and the company he had dealt with as well as the address of the company.

  Rather than stay in Steve’s home, I informed him that I preferred to stay in a hotel at my own expense. I felt that it would be much more convenient being downtown near public transportation. Steve’s house was in a location that wasn’t handy to either the Strip or the downtown casinos.

  My next search was on Expedia for flights. There were a few last-minute bargains and I selected a flight departing from Toronto tomorrow morning and arriving in Las Vegas at four o’clock in the afternoon Vegas time. There were no direct flights available so I had a three-hour stopover in Chicago. My return ticket was for Sunday, March 4th.

  I had been to Las Vegas dozens of times in the past. I called the Four Queens and booked a room for seven nights. After that I’d move from downtown hotel to hotel, spending a few days or a week in each place.

  There was an airport shuttle bus leaving from the downtown Belleville bus terminal to the Toronto
airport three times each day. The next coach was at one-thirty and the final coach of the day departed at four-thirty. There was no bus leaving later in the evening so I decided to take the one-thirty coach and stay at one of the airport hotels tonight.

  I booked the most convenient hotel on-line and then quickly packed a small carry-on bag. I debated whether to wear a suit. At first I decided not to bother but on further reflection changed my mind. Looking professional might prove to be an advantage in Las Vegas.

  I knocked on my next door neighbor’s door and the middle-aged couple said that they’d be pleased to hold my mail until I returned. All of my condominium bills were paid automatically from my bank account each month.

  I shut off each of the toilets and then shut off the main water supply. Doing so would eliminate the possibility of a major water leak.

  At one-o’clock I walked the two blocks to the downtown bus terminal.

  CHAPTER 4 (A Long Journey)

  There was space on the airport shuttle bus so I purchased a one-way ticket for less than fifty bucks. My sports bag fit easily into the storage bin above my seat.

  We made a few stops in cities along the way and arrived at Toronto Pearson International Airport shortly after four o’clock.

  The hotel I had selected was right at the airport terminal so I walked the short distance to the front desk. Although the room was a bit more than I normally would spend, staying here saved me the cost of shuttle buses to and from any of the other airport hotels. This was the only accommodation within walking distance of my departure terminal.

  I changed out of my suit and put on casual pants and a sweater. For the next couple of hours I studied my Las Vegas street map in order to get my bearings. I circled in pencil the location of Steve’s place of business as well as his customer’s.

  At six o’clock I went to the hotel dining-room and lingered over a full meal consisting of clam chowder, pan-fried Canadian lake trout and three bottles of Moosehead ale.

  Back in my room, I lay on the bed and savored the thought that I would soon be out of the frigid cold and snow. This would be the first holiday that I’d had in more than two years and my first trip to Las Vegas since 2012.

  My last several vacations had been shared with a lovely lady named Jennifer. We had dated for almost five years but never resided together.

  In December of 2015 we had taken our last trip together, a seven night cruise in the southern Caribbean which departed from San Juan, Puerto Rico.

  It had been an idyllic time and I almost asked Jennifer to marry me on the flight home.

  Unfortunately, two days after we returned to Toronto, Jennifer’s thirty-two year old son got into some serious legal trouble and moved back in with his mother. The kid was surly toward me and on New Year’s Day Jennifer and I had a massive argument about Glenn.

  I caught the little thief rifling through my wallet when I stepped out of the bathroom. I had stayed over at Jennifer’s condo after we had attended a New Year’s Eve dance the night before.

  Glenn had a fistful of my cash in his hand and was sneaking out of his mother’s bedroom when I emerged from the attached bathroom.

  Poor Jennifer was caught in an impossible situation. Glenn denied stealing from me and claimed that the cash was his. When I opened my wallet to show that all my cash except $40 had gone missing, Glenn accused me of setting him up.

  I left before the kid and I got into a fistfight. Jennifer called me an hour later but that conversation turned nasty when I declared that I didn’t want to have anything to do with her criminal spawn.

  Jennifer retorted that she and Glenn were a package deal and that she couldn’t abandon her only child in his hour of need.

  We were both angry and within a few minutes we had broken off our relationship.

  We hadn’t spoken or seen each other since then although I saw in the Toronto Star that Jennifer had gotten married in November of 2016. I pitied any new husband who had to accept Glenn in order to snag Jennifer.

  I was quite heartbroken and hadn’t been out on a single date since the breakup. Jennifer was a real looker and great company. Instead of looking for romance after our split, I worked extremely long and hard hours trying to wrap up as many files as I could. I had decided within months of our fight that I no longer wanted to practice law in Toronto. I stopped taking on litigation files and gradually restricted my work to real estate transactions.

  It had still taken that series of bizarre coincidences last summer to finally persuade me to pack it in.

  I wondered if perhaps romance would come knocking on my door at some point now that I was a gentleman of leisure.

  I set the room’s alarm clock for four o’clock in the morning and went to bed shortly after nine.

  The buzzer startled me the next morning. For a moment I was disoriented but quickly realized that I was in a Toronto hotel room.

  I showered and dressed in my suit. A continental breakfast was included in my room rate so I quickly ate in the hotel’s breakfast room and then checked out of the hotel.

  The line-up at my airline was reasonably short and within ten minutes I had my boarding pass.

  The customs line was disturbingly long but eventually I passed through and made my way to the departure gate.

  I had forgotten how stressful it had become to travel by air.

  My flight left about thirty minutes late but that didn’t affect me because of the three-hour stopover in Chicago. Folks who rolled the dice with thirty minute stopovers were only asking for trouble. Airlines were not efficient enough to make short flight connections viable.

  The flight appeared to be full. I was lucky to have been able to purchase a ticket yesterday. I had an aisle seat but the young chap beside me wasn’t talkative. At least it was a relatively short flight.

  My next flight did leave pretty much on time. There were several empty seats but the woman beside me was foreign so we didn’t speak at all. I did manage to doze off for an hour or so during the flight.

  Finally the plane touched down at McCarran International Airport in Las Vegas at four o’clock Pacific Standard Time.

  I caught a Bell Trans shuttle to the Four Queens and checked in at five-thirty. The shuttle had made several stops at other hotels along the way.

  My Room 408 was very pleasant. It faced south which assured that there shouldn’t be much noise from outside. The north side of the hotel was right on the Fremont Street Experience which had a booming sound and light show every hour during the evenings.

  My first task was to go back outside and purchase some beer and a phone card.

  CHAPTER 5 (Meeting Steve Carling)

  My first phone call using my new card was to Steve Carling. I advised him that I had arrived in Las Vegas and was staying in Room 408 at the Four Queens downtown.

  We arranged that he’d come to my hotel where we could discuss his problem.

  When I heard a knock on my door, I opened it and saw a short and scrawny gentleman with rapidly thinning grey hair and thick glasses. Steve looked like a mousy accountant. I assumed that he was about fifty-five, the same age as Jimmy Corbett since they grew up together and went to college at the same time.

  Steve came in. There was no sofa in my room but there was a round table with two chairs in the corner by the window.

  We sat there and made small talk for a few minutes, mostly about Jimmy and our respective history with him.

  “Jim had nothing but good things to say about you, Scott. I’m so pleased that you agreed to come to Vegas and take a look at my situation. Are you sure that you’re willing to help me without getting paid?”

  “I’m reasonably well off and don’t need to accumulate any more money. Besides, I’m not legally permitted to work in the USA. Even though I’m still a paid-up member of the Ontario Law Society, as I stressed to you on the phone, I’m not acting as your attorney in any capacity. I’m merely here to help you unofficially in your attempts to discover more information about the customer who owes y
ou money. I may not be of much assistance but I’m treating this trip as a holiday. I didn’t ask you on the phone, but why are you unable to access the information you’re looking for on your own?”

  “I did try to find out more about Teckschen Limited but navigating the corporate search records proved to be too much for me. I’m a small manufacturer of highly specialized machine components. I’ve only got one employee and run my business out of a workroom behind my garage. Understanding corporate filings was far beyond my ability. My cash flow at the moment is dreadful because Teckschen stiffed me on its bill.”

  “How much does the company owe you?”

  “The total of the three invoices comes to $98,000. I’ve brought along copies of those invoices as well as copies of all correspondence and emails between my firm and Teckschen.”

  “Have you consulted an attorney about collecting the receivables?”

  “I did have a meeting with a lawyer specializing in collections but he wouldn’t even open a file without a retainer of $5,000. I didn’t have access to that kind of money so I called Jim Corbett to see if he could come down here and save my business.”

  “Have you sued Teckschen Limited yet?”

  “I did file a lawsuit against the company two months ago when it became apparent that the owner wasn’t going to pay me. I obtained a default judgement against Teckschen Limited three weeks ago but that’s when I was informed that the company had no assets whatsoever.”

  “Why did you complete the job without getting any money up front?”

  “Guenther Schenteck is a well-known highly successful businessman in Las Vegas. I was so thrilled to get the job and also get my foot in the door to possible future work that I didn’t press him when the money for the first two invoices wasn’t forthcoming. Mr. Schenteck convinced me that paying only when a job was fully completed was the standard business practice with his company.”

  ”Did you also deliver the physical machine components to the company without insisting on being paid?”